


The Light That's Coming in the Morning

by JupiterMelichios



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Families of Choice, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterMelichios/pseuds/JupiterMelichios
Summary: Dick smiles up at the stars, hidden from view behind by the clouds, and hopes Damian knows it’s really for him. “I love you. And I know you’re going to just disappear on me now, that’s totally cool. I know this stuff is hard for you. But I needed you to know that, even if you didn’t want to hear it. You’re my brother, and I love you.”





	1. Tim

**Author's Note:**

> Damian drives me up the wall a lot of the time, but he's also a really good kid, and there isn't enough content (fan-made or canonical) about nice things happening to him, and there could never be enough content about the Bat-siblings bonding for my tastes, even if that was all DC put out from now on.
> 
> This is pre-52, because much as I love Duke I'd trade him for the Bats actually getting to be a family in a heartbeat. (Wouldn't it be lovely if we got to have both?)
> 
> Title is from John Ball, one of the most bittersweet English folk songs, and one of my favourites

Tim’s supposed to be keeping a low profile. Keeping a low profile is what he does, it’s the one thing he’s better than anyone else in the family at, and he’s studied enough psychology to know what a damning indictment of his childhood that is, but it’s still a skill that’s saved his life a thousand times over.

But Damian is also supposed to be keeping a low profile, which is probably why he’s not fighting back. He hunches in on himself when the boy pushes him, and Tim can see how he’s fighting to restrain himself in the tightness of his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders. And then the kid shoves him again, harder this time, calls him a name Tim would be shocked a child of that age even knew if he hadn’t spent the last seven years on the streets every night.

And Tim has done the same thing, he’s put up with the same stuff and worse to protect his identity, but this is different.

This is Damian.

He’s got the kid up by the collar before he’s really thought about it. Little punk is nearly as tall as Tim, but Tim’s got strength and reach on the boy even without his combat training, and it’s not exactly hard to pick the little bastard up by the back of his shirt and toss him, hard enough to hurt and uncoordinated enough to be deniable, away from Damian.

“Get the fuck away from my brother,” he says, and he’s angry enough that there’s a little bit of Red Robin in his voice, a little bit of the danger no one ever expects from someone of his size. “If I ever see you near him again I’ll…”

“What, you’ll kick my ass, fag?” the kid demands. He’s all bravado, a bully so textbook you could use him as a PSA, but Tim has to admit he’s got balls. “A grown-up beating up a kid? Yeah, that’ll look really good for you.”

Damian is frozen, and Tim knows it’s because he's fighting down the desire to behead this dickhead not because he's afraid, but that’s enough to make Tim want to put this kid down hard enough that he doesn’t get back up. “You’re John Lancaster’s son, aren’t you? And you know who I am?” He leans in, gets right up in the kids’ face the way he’d always wanted to do with his own bullies. “I’m Tim Wayne, and I own the majority stake in Lancaster Pharmachemicals, and if you ever, _ ever _, touch my brother again I will sink the whole goddamn company just to fuck you over and leave you with nothing, do you understand me?”

“You’re bluffing,” the kids says, but he looks nervous now. He’s young, but he’s not so young that he doesn’t understand how important money is to families like his, and everyone in Gotham knows the Waynes run everything that matters.

“How about you tell your daddy everything I just said? And when he shits himself, then you’ll know if I’m bluffing.” Lucius Fox has always believed in extending the hand of friendship, and Tim’s not opposed to that in principle. He just makes sure everyone he deals with knows that the other hand is holding a very big stick. “Run along now.”

It’s the kind of line that would backfire nine times out of ten, but this is the tenth time and the kid actually does storm off, doing a piss-poor job of pretending it was his idea.

“I don’t need your protection, Drake,” Damian spits.

If he was Dick or Jason he’d ruffle Damian’s hair, or clap him on the shoulder, but he gave up trying to be anyone except himself a long time ago. He starts back towards the car, trusting that Damian will follow. “I know you can. But not even your dad can give me detention any more, so it made more tactical sense for me to do it. Besides, did you see his face?”

They get into the car, and Damian waits until they’ve pulled away from the school gate to say, “It was somewhat amusing, I supposed.”

Tim doesn’t smile at him, because he’s no-one but himself and he’s never been any good at smiling, but Damian isn’t either so Tim knows he’ll see the smile that he's only thinking.


	2. Cass

“I can’t dance,” Damian says stubbornly. “No, Cassandra, I already told you I can’t…” Cass ignores him and shows him the right hold, one hand on her waist and the other held in her own. “Fine. But this is undignified.”

Cass doesn’t know what undignified means, but she can guess from Damian’s expression and the stiff way he’s holding himself. He expects to fail at this, and to suffer the consequences of failure. In Bruce’s house no one hits if you mess up, except by accident during a spar, but old habits are hard to break.

They stand in silence, waiting for the music to loop around to the beginning of the next song, and then Cass begins to move, slow and careful so Damian will be able to see and copy.

He’s not perfect. He’s very very well trained, but his mother loved him too much to make him into whatever Cass is, but that’s fine. He makes mistakes, but he never makes the same once twice, and there’s something soothing about Damian stepping on her toes and not doing anything about it. Not hitting, or yelling, or telling him he’s bad. She just keeps dancing, slow and steady, and waits for him to catch the rhythm.

It takes him two songs, but he gets it. It’s only a simple dance, a short sequence of steps that sends them twirling lazily around the ballroom while Alfred’s record fill the room with soft music, but she knows from the way he moves at first that it’s completely new to him.

He relaxes by inches, goes from stiff like rock to warm and human as he learns the steps. It’s fun to dance with Dick, who feels with his body the way she does, but this is nice too. Nice in a different way, because even though the steps are the same the meaning is changed.

When she knows he’s ready, she leans down, rests her forehead against his. People who don’t understand think it’s kissing or sex, but to Cass this is the most intimate touch. The most important. This is seeing someone else and being seen in return, this is the kind of trust you can only share with family.

“See,” she says, because Damian isn’t quite like her and sometimes he needs words to understand. “You learned it.”

He huffs out a little breath of amusement and squeezes her hand. “Yeah,” he says. “I learned it.”


	3. Jason

Damian’s crouched in an alley when Jason finds him. There are four unconscious men strewn around him, but Jason recognises enough of them that he doesn’t bother checking if they need medical attention. Besides, Damian’s more important.

“You alright kid?” he asks. He doesn’t get too close, keeps his body language open and easy, makes sure Damian can see his hands and his guns, safe in their holsters.

“Go away.” Most people would think the kid sounded on the verge of tears, but Jason knows better.

He takes his time, taking a long drag on his cigarette while he sorts out his thoughts, and then says, “The worst thing about being a killer is knowing how easy it is.”

Damian doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t run either, so Jason figures that’s probably as good as he’s going to get.

“Your dad thinks he gets that, but he doesn’t. Until you’ve done it, you can’t know. And then once you do, you can never ever forget. Humans are so fucking fragile, and it’s so easy to reach out and just…” He drops his smoke, grinds it out with the toe of his boot. “Not doing it is the hardest thing in the world.”

“I’m not weak like you,” Damian says. His voice is full of scorn, but he hasn’t moved, still crouched down like a kid hiding from monsters.

“No, you’re not like me. You made a choice, and you’ve stuck to it, and I’m the only one in this fucked up family of ours who knows what that really means. Even Black Bat never wanted to do it, not even to please her dad. But me? I know. I know exactly what your instincts are telling you these bastards deserve, because I’ve got Talia’s fingerprints all over me, and I know you didn’t do it. And I know that’s the toughest thing in the fucking world.”

Damian uncurls, just enough that Jason can see his profile, can see that there’s no tears in his eyes or blood on his hands. He doesn’t touch, but it fucking hurts not to hug the kid, when he clearly needs it so bad.

But sometimes words can be as much of a hug as physical touch, so he looks away, gives Damian privacy, says, “They love you, you know, the other Bats. But none of them understand, so I’ve got to be the one to say it even if you don’t want to hear it from me. I’m really fucking proud of you kid.”

When he looks back round, Damian is gone. Maybe he’d disappeared the minute Jason looks away, maybe he didn’t stay to hear what Jason had to say, but Jason doesn’t think so.


	4. Steph

Steph is still laughing, so hard her ribs ache and she can’t catch a breath.

“Stop it,” Damian snaps. He sounds angry, like he doesn’t see the joke at all. “Stop it now, Batgirl!”

“Trying,” she manages, “Can’t…” The words trail off into another bout of laughter, shockingly loud in the fog-muffled night.

“Stop it this instant! I will not be laughed at!”

He sounds honestly distressed this time, hurt hidden behind anger, and it’s enough to get her to breath herself down. “Oh shit, Rob, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

“You… weren’t?”

“No! You were _ awesome _ ! I was laughing at that fat pervert’s face, I mean come on, you literally dropped him and all the evidence right into the police’s laps!” She mimes it with her hands. “Weeeeeeeee, thump, ‘hello officers, I can explain’. That was fucking brilliant!” She’d thought at first it was an accident, Damian misjudging how close their perp was to the edge of the balcony, or even a murder attempt, and then she’d looked down to see Bullock had broken the guys fall, and Montoya was standing over the two of them holding the album of photos that was going to put the sick fuck away for a very long time, and honestly if you didn’t think that was hilarious you might as well just hand in your tights and jumpline and become an accountant or something. “That was the funniest shit I’ve seen in _weeks_.”

There’s a noise beside her, a snort, and then a weaze, and then for the first time since she’s known him Damian is actually laughing, really laughing, and that makes her laugh again too, and the two of them just stand there on the rooftop, Damian propped up against a wall, Steph bracing her hands against her knees, and they laugh and laugh until it hurts.


	5. Dick

“Hey,” Dick says, without turning to look at Damian. “I need to tell you something.”

They’re sitting on the roof of a gold smiths, on the edge of the Diamond district. Damian said he wasn’t hungry, but Dick’s making him eat an energy bar anyway.

Most of the time, Dick’s used to Gotham nights, but tonight he wishes you could ever see the stars in this city of perpetual fog. He knows that if he meets Damian’s eyes for this, Dami will freak and probably run, but it would be nice to have something to look at that isn’t just the blimps. When Bruce had first taken him in they’d seemed exotic, exciting, something no other city in the world still had, but after fifteen years they’re just part of his everyday.

“So tell me.” Damian sounds mostly disinterested, but Dick knows him well enough now to hear the curiosity and the worry in his voice.

Dick smiles up at the stars, hidden from view behind by the clouds, and hopes Damian knows it’s really for him. “I love you. And I know you’re going to just disappear on me now, that’s totally cool. I know this stuff is hard for you. But I needed you to know that, even if you didn’t want to hear it. You’re my brother, and I love you.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Dick’s pretty sure Damian’s still there, but he doesn’t dare turn his head to check.

But then there’s a warm presence, right beside him, and a comforting weight as Damian leans against him. Not hugging, nothing that couldn’t be denied, but willing affectionate contact all the same.

“Yeah,” Dick says, answering the things Damian’s only saying with his body. People think only Cass can do that, but Dick’s first language has always been touch. “I know you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are what keeps me writing.


End file.
